black hole
by envysparkler
Summary: There's a gaping hole left by his best friend and it's eating everything in his life. – Ray-centric.


**a/n:** I've officially spent five years on fanfiction! This year, my oneshot anniversary celebration covers the first five fandoms I wrote for.

 **disclaimer:** I don't own Lemonade Mouth. Warning for depression and mention of suicidal thoughts.

 **dedication:** To angst.

 **summary:** There's a gaping hole left by his best friend and it's eating everything in his life. – Ray-centric.

* * *

 _ **black hole**_

* * *

It was raining. It was fitting, considering the circumstances. The sky itself was crying for him.

It wasn't like anyone else would.

Ray Beech knelt in the middle of the empty soccer field, soaked to the bone and completely alone. The scoreboard had shut off a long time ago but he remembered what it said. Zero-three. The worst defeat in the history of Mesa High School.

Okay, perhaps it hadn't been the worst defeat in the high school's history, but it had certainly been the worst defeat in his. Ray had lost before, but not so brutally and not at such an important game. It was his last championship and they had to win this match to qualify. The crowds were huge, the stands full of cheering people, and Ray had recognized a few scouts in the audience.

He had almost fooled himself into thinking this was different, that _this_ would be the match to break his long string of defeats and lead Mesa High back to its former glory.

But it wasn't. It was another loss, another failure, another part of Ray's life that got swallowed up by the seething pit of darkness in his life.

It had started with Scott. He had pushed his best friend too far, he had used him to break up Lemonade Mouth. Ray could understand that he'd crossed a line but he couldn't figure out why Scott hadn't just _told_ him. Then, perhaps, they could've sorted things out and Scott wouldn't have had to quit Mudslide Crush to support his girlfriend. Ray wouldn't have had to hastily issue an ultimatum that had backfired on him.

He told Scott to get out and never come back and Scott had listened.

Mudslide Crush had fallen apart because of that. Ray could deal with that loss – they'd already won Rising Star and while he loved music, it wasn't his passion. His passion had always been soccer.

But Scott had quit that too. Ray had wanted to go talk to him, to ask him to come back, to _apologize_ , but then he'd seen his best friend surrounded by Lemonade Mouth, smiling and laughing. It was clear that Scott didn't need or want Ray back.

Perhaps Ray's angry shout had merely been an excuse. Perhaps the real reason Scott didn't tell him how to fix their friendship was because he didn't _want_ to fix it.

After all, who wanted to be friends with a loser?

Ray hadn't realized just how much he needed his best friend to curtail the worst parts of him. Ray's temper had spiraled out of control and his teammates feared and hated him in equal measure. His girlfriend had dumped him and people began avoiding him in the halls, afraid he was going to lash out at them.

Throughout it all, Scott sat with his _new_ friends, unknowing or uncaring. Ray couldn't quite figure out which was worse.

His grades had started slipping because of his obsessive focus on soccer. The principal had even called him and told him that he had to be taken off the team but Ray had begged and pleaded, for the first time in his life, to be allowed to play.

Perhaps he shouldn't have made such a fuss. Perhaps without him, they might've won.

The rain was only getting worse but Ray didn't care. The only thing waiting for him at home was disappointment. Yet again, Ray Beech had failed to live up to his family. He no longer had a band, he was failing two subjects and his team hadn't qualified for the championship. He had nothing.

Ray bent forward until his head was touching the ground, his hands fisting in the grass. He wanted to scream and shout at the dark skies, but he didn't. It was useless. _He_ was useless.

Ray wasn't sure whether the wetness on his face was tears or rain.

He was a complete failure at everything he did. He couldn't even manage to keep one friend. He'd lost his popularity practically overnight. His own parents thought he was a disappointment.

He should probably do everyone a favor and drown here, in the rain, though he'd probably fail at that too.

Ray couldn't tell how much of the shaking was because of the cold and how much was because he was falling apart.

He could already hear the whispers in the halls tomorrow. _Pathetic_. Loser. _Look how far the king has fallen._

Ray didn't know how far he'd fallen, only that he'd hit rock bottom. He'd probably be called into the principal's office tomorrow to try and make up the classes he was failing. If he didn't, he'd have to repeat a year, with no soccer. With the horrible game he'd just played, he wouldn't be able to get a soccer scholarship and while his parents were rich enough to pay for college, where would he get accepted? No grades, no sports, no extracurriculars.

Was there a college for failures?

Still hunched over in the middle of the field, Ray heard the one thing that could make his day worse. Footsteps, heading towards him. Possibly to laugh and jeer at his pathetic state – it's what he would've done. Perhaps this was karma.

Ray didn't look up to see who was coming. Maybe they'd turn around and go away if he didn't respond. But the footsteps only got closer, striding towards him with determined purpose, even in the pouring rain.

"Go away," Ray said, just loud enough to be heard over the rain. No one, not even the coach, had dared risk Ray's temper in the last few games. Whoever it was would surely head back when confronted with his foul mood.

The footsteps kept coming closer and Ray wanted to snarl at the ground. He didn't want anyone to see him, didn't want to make the humiliation worse than it already was. There was no one who would come to comfort him now.

"Ray," the person said softly, dropping to their knees in front of him. Ray's blood turned to ice, if it hadn't already. He knew that voice. Of all the people to see him broken down and crying on a football field, why did it have to be _him_?

"Ray," Scott repeated, "Ray, look at me."

"No," Ray muttered, because he was a coward on top of being a loser, "Go away, Scott."

Scott sighed and Ray watched through a gap in his hands as Scott settled into a more comfortable position. "I'm not going anywhere, Ray," Scott said stubbornly, "And I can wait until you're ready to talk."

"I'm never _going_ to talk!" Ray yelled, pushing off the ground. The _'not to_ you _'_ hung in the air, silent. "So there's no point in waiting!"

Scott merely blinked at him, as if the sight of Ray's red eyes and pale face was normal and they were having a regular conversation. "Okay," he shrugged, but made no move to get up, "Then I'll just wait for you to leave."

Ray cursed and grabbed a fistful of grass. He'd forgotten how infuriating Scott could be. "Don't be an idiot," Ray snarled, "You're getting soaked. Go _away_."

"So are you," Scott pointed out with impeccable logic. Ray just glared at him. He couldn't even yell at Scott. He couldn't make Scott guilty for leaving because _Ray_ was the idiot who told him not to come back.

Scott should never have talked to him again. He definitely shouldn't have been freezing to death in the middle of a rainstorm, just to keep Ray company.

"Go back inside, Scott," Ray said quietly, not looking at his once best friend, "You shouldn't be here."

"My best friend is trying to drown himself in the middle of a soccer field, there's nowhere else I should be," Scott said firmly and Ray jerked back like he'd been slapped.

"I don't deserve to be called that," Ray said hollowly, "I don't deserve _you_."

"They said you'd changed, but I didn't believe them," Scott narrowed his eyes, "When has there been anything the great Ray Beech didn't deserve?"

Ray hung his head and watched as raindrops splattered against his muddy hands. "Don't call me that," he said quietly, "I'm not great."

Scott didn't say anything and Ray assumed he was getting up to leave. After all, no one wanted damaged goods and Ray was clearly broken. So Ray nearly jumped out of his skin when Scott's hand covered his own.

"You are great," Scott said firmly, forcing Ray to look at him, "You're brilliant. You're an amazing musician, a talented soccer player and a good person."

"I'm a loser," Ray said, voicing the thought that had always been in his head, "I lost my band, my team and my best friend. I'm about the furthest from a good person that you can get." He eyed Scott's hand, still covering his, "I honestly don't know why you haven't run for the hills already."

He'd looked away from Scott so he didn't see his expression twist and didn't realize that the other boy was angry until a fist slammed into the side of his face. The force of the punch sent Ray to the ground and he spit out the wet grass in his mouth.

There was a part of Ray that was angry, that wanted him to get back up and yell at Scott. But the other part knew he deserved it for everything that he'd put his friend through. Ray stayed on the ground until Scott's hands grabbed his collar and hauled him upright.

"You're not a loser," Scott growled fiercely, shaking Ray, "You haven't lost me. You haven't lost your team! And I'm not going to run from you!"

"Your funeral," Ray whispered tiredly and Scott stopped, letting go of Ray's shirt.

"Ray, I'm not going anywhere," Scott said quietly, "I'm sorry that I stayed away all this time –"

"I told you not to come back," Ray pointed out.

Scott rolled his eyes, "And when exactly did I start listening to _you_?" Ray conceded that he might have a point. "I'm sorry for not watching you," Scott continued, "And I'm sorry for not being there when you needed me."

"You don't have to be sorry," Ray said brusquely. There were tears in his eyes but no one could tell they weren't raindrops. "You had new friends. I get it."

"Ray, Lemonade Mouth is my band and all of them are my friends now, yes," Scott said, "But _you're_ still my best friend and nothing in the world will ever change that."

"You don't deserve that level of punishment," Ray said harshly, "You don't deserve being friends with a loser."

"Will you _stop it_ with the loser crap?!" Scott growled at him, but Ray cut him off.

"I'm failing half my classes and we lost the chance to go to the championship. There's nothing I've succeeded at."

"You don't need to succeed at everything to not be a loser," Scott sighed, "Just because you lost one match and failed one test means _nothing_."

"It's kind of the standard definition of a loser," Ray pointed out, "A person who loses. Again and again and again. It wasn't just one game or one test, Scott, it's _everything_."

"You haven't lost me," Scott said softly.

"I almost did," Ray said, and immediately wished he could take it back. Something in Scott's face crumpled and fell and Ray didn't want to make him feel guilty.

"But you didn't," Scott pointed out in the quietest voice Ray's heard, "And you won't." He couldn't promise that, not with Ray's quick temper and Scott's stubbornness but the words lifted Ray's spirit in a way he couldn't explain. "Come on," Scott got to his feet and held out a hand to Ray, "Let's get out of the rain before we catch a cold."

Ray stared at the hand for a long moment. He deserved to stay here, getting wet and cold and miserable. He didn't deserve warmth and happiness. But Scott was still staring at him, expectantly holding out his hand and Ray knew that he wouldn't leave without him.

Ray took his hand.

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 **fin**

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 **a/n:** Wow this got sad and dark very fast. Also a reminder that I do take prompts!


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